


Between Men

by Corinna



Category: Glee
Genre: Burt Hummel is the world's best dad, Christmas, Gen, Glee Actually, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Parents, That's what it says on his mug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinna/pseuds/Corinna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, actually,” Burt says, “it’s something I want to ask Blaine. But it’s a big enough favor that I’m asking you first. If you and his mom say no, I won’t mention it.”</p>
<p>John leans back again. “I appreciate it,” he says. Blaine has been locked in his room playing awful sad pop songs for what seems like forever now. John thinks the Hummels have taken enough from his son already.</p>
<p>Set some time between 4.08 ("Thanksgiving") and 4.10 ("Glee, Actually").</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Men

John Anderson is staring at a spreadsheet on his monitor, trying to make the quarter add up, when Stacy calls from the reception desk. “There’s a Burt Hummel here to see you?”

And that’s not a name he had expected to hear again anytime soon, but “Sure,” he says, “send him back.”

He’s only met Burt a couple of times, at some campaign event and a school concert, but he’s a good guy, John thinks, a solid sort of guy. Those campaign ads he’d run would make anyone want to vote for him. He can’t imagine what Burt’s doing at his office, though. The hesitant look on Burt’s face as he comes through the door suggests Burt’s wondering the same thing.

“Burt. How’ve you been?” John asks. He comes across the desk to shake Burt’s hand.

“Can’t complain,” Burt says. He’s still got his winter coat on, and a plain black baseball cap. “Yourself?”

“This time of year’s always crazy, but we’re fine, thanks. Can I get you something? Water, a coffee maybe?”

“No, I’m good, thanks. Hey, listen.” Burt rubs a hand against his baseball cap. “Is this a bad time?

“Not at all. Is there a problem?” John can feel his pulse tick up. God only knows what could have happened. Blaine has never been sensible about Burt’s kid. 

“No. No, no problem, it’s just –“

“Do you want to sit down?” John waves his hand at the little round conference table at the far side of his office. It’s got three plastic chairs around it, and it’s a better place to talk than across his desk.  

Burt looks relieved. He shrugs off his coat, carefully drapes it over the chair left empty between them, and when they’re both sitting, tries again. “I have sort of a favor to ask you.”  

“OK.” John leans forward, moving into sales mode. Burt Hummel owing him a favor is worth considering.  

“Well, actually,” Burt says, “it’s something I want to ask Blaine. But it’s a big enough favor that I’m asking you first. If you and his mom say no, I won’t mention it.”  

John leans back again. “I appreciate it,” he says. Blaine has been locked in his room playing awful sad pop songs for what seems like forever now. John thinks the Hummels have taken enough from his son already.  

“It’s – I want to take him to New York with me. For Christmas.”  

It’s such an outrageous request, John has to laugh. “Do you want a drink? I could use a drink.” He gets up, takes the bottle of Glenmorangie and a glass off the bookshelf, and pours himself probably too much. He turns back to offer it to Burt, who shakes his head.  

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot –”  

He tries to keep his tone even. “The last Christmas with one of our boys at home.”  

“I understand that. Believe me. It’d only be for maybe a day, day and a half, tops. I mostly need him there for Christmas Eve.” Burt has the grace to look embarrassed.  

“Oh, good,” John says, “that way he won’t miss any of the _important_ parts.” He sits back down at the table, dropping heavily into the seat. “Please tell me you see what a joke this is.”  

“John, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”  

“Important. For your kid. Who, last I heard, wasn’t even taking Blaine’s calls.”  

Burt gives him a look John can’t quite put a name to. “They’ve been talking again since Thanksgiving. Blaine hasn’t mentioned it?”  

Blaine had looked happy at Thanksgiving, though his choir had been eliminated in their competition. He’d even gone with the rest of them for a hike on Saturday. John had put that down to Cooper being able to make it home at the last minute: Blaine idolizes his big brother. Since then?

“It’s my busy season,” John says.

“Of course,” Burt says easily. “Seems like they’re mostly friends again, anyhow.”

“Is that why you want to take him to New York? You want to,” and what would the right words even be? “—fix them up?”

Burt chuckles. It’s not a happy sound. “No. Let them be friends, right? But, look, Kurt is one of the bravest people I know. He really is. And some of that, I know he gets from Blaine, from being his friend.” Burt rubs one of his big callused hands in a circle on the tabletop. “And there’s stuff coming Kurt’s gonna need to be brave for. I want to make sure he’ll be OK.”

The anger surges back, and even though John does his best, he knows it shows in his voice. “So my son should give up his Christmas at home with his family.”

“I said it was a big favor.”

John takes a drink of his scotch. “It’s ridiculous. Not to mention that Sylvie will never agree to it. And Blaine…” They’d been away at a sales meeting when whatever it was had happened to end things. They’d left Blaine his usual well-adjusted self, and come back to find a wreck. Their so grown-up little boy, reduced to rubble and tears. It made John wish for the days when Blaine’s stuffed lion or an extra dessert would be enough to make anything right. “Don’t you think it would be better all around if they just accepted it and moved on? It was a high-school thing. Do you remember the first girl you ever said ‘I love you’ to?”

Burt nods.

“Mine was Sally Morrison. Redhead. Tons of freckles. I was so crazy for that girl, I can’t even tell you. But we broke up senior year, and when I saw her during college it was like we’d never even known each other. Total strangers. She added me as a friend on Facebook last year, I couldn’t remember who she was at first. You?”

“She was Kurt’s mom,” Burt says.

John takes another drink. “I’m sorry. But you see my point.”

Burt doesn’t say anything for a long minute. Finally, he sighs and says, “I’ve learned I can’t really base my advice for Kurt on what I did — or really anything. Things are so different than when we were kids, anyhow, but it’s more different for him. What he went through at that school. What Blaine’s dealt with.” 

Even thinking about his son in the hospital makes John’s stomach clench.

“Getting through hard times together, you know, it leaves a mark. Even with friends. I can still tell you everyone who brought us a casserole, after Kurt’s mom passed. And I’m guessing that no matter what we think, or what we might want, Kurt and Blaine are going to be part of each other’s lives for a long time. Maybe just sending Christmas cards, but something. And I think Blaine would want to be there for Kurt now.”

And John hates to admit it, but he thinks Burt is right.

When Blaine had come out to them, so scared and so brave, John and Sylvia had told each other that it would be OK. John had gay friends. Matt Garber from the insurance company, Paul down at the golf club, that nice woman Susan at the bakery. All of them genuinely nice upstanding people, no one who was going to make anyone uncomfortable or have a hard time getting ahead.

Blaine could have a life like that.  Even after that nightmare first year of high school, he could still have a life like that. He likes football and he likes cars. He boxes, for God’s sake. But two years ago, he’d brought home this breathy-voiced boy who managed to make even a Dalton jacket look a little swishy, and he’d stared at him like he was the golden ticket. When they’d left, Sylvie had said, “Was Kurt wearing _eyeshadow_?” and they’d both laughed. 

John had been so certain that Kurt was just a phase. But he’s seen now how much of his son’s heart Kurt really had -- hell, still has, even after he ended things. Everything that John’s tried to teach his son: loyalty, trustworthiness, consideration, even chivalry, all of it will send Blaine hurtling to New York if he’s asked. And if he finds out that he could have gone and his father had said no?

“What’s the emergency?” John finally manages. 

“Huh?” 

“You said hard times. What’s so bad you need Blaine’s help with it?”

Burt shifts in his chair and looks down. “It’s me.” John’s mind is already racing ahead to scandal, political reporters, _local politician in sex shocker_ when Burt says “I’ve got… some health concerns. We haven’t said anything yet, in public. I’m trusting you to keep it that way.”

“Your heart?”

Burt looks sad. “No. Something else. The doctors all say it’s manageable, I’ll be fine, but there’s a lot of scary words and mortality rates and stuff that I’ve got to talk to him about. He’ll try to be brave for me, same as he always does, but – ah, I don’t know. Saying it out loud it sounds stupid.” 

“No.” Even the thought of having a conversation like that with Cooper and Blaine, it’s like ice: he can’t touch it for more than a split second without flinching away. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It’s like I said. Blaine, Blaine being his friend, makes it easier for Kurt to be brave. And, you know, from what I’ve seen, vice-versa.”

It’s a new thought for John, that anything about Kurt Hummel had been good for Blaine. He’s not sure how he feels about it.  

He shakes his head and takes another drink. “It’s a lot,” he says again. “But I guess Blaine deserves the Christmas he’d prefer too. I’ll talk to Sylvia.”

Burt smiles. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”  

“Don’t go thanking me yet,” John says, standing up. “Let me talk to my wife and I’ll call you tomorrow.” He knows Sylvie will be furious – she’s been planning this Christmas since the summer – but she’ll get past it, same as he will.

This is what letting his sons grow up means, he thinks as he shakes Burt Hummel’s hand and watches him walk away. It means watching Cooper take the charisma that could have made him a great businessman and use it to make ads for a credit score service that’s halfway to being a scam. It means sending Blaine to New York to support a boy John doesn’t like, because Blaine loves him. It means trying to be the man he hopes they’ll all be, someday. And if it means sharing his son with Kurt Hummel, well. John thinks he’s probably going to have to get used to that.  


End file.
